


Pick Your Battles

by misura



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Fourth Joins the Cohort, F/M, Mentioned Isaac Tettares, Mentioned Jeannemary Chatur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29350755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Abigail considered. "I would assume the Cohort's laundry operators to have some experience getting blood and the like out of uniforms.""One would indeed," agreed Magnus. "An eminently reasonable assumption to make. And yet." (AU where the Fourth joins the Cohort and sends letters to Abigail and Magnus)
Relationships: Abigail Pent/Magnus Quinn
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Pick Your Battles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Confection](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Confection/gifts).



Magnus looked somewhat distressed after reading Jeannemary's missive, which might mean anything.

Abigail decided to give him ten seconds: when she reached five, he said, "They're still so young."

She said, "Yes."

Magnus rose and started pacing, taking care to avoid the carpet. "And yet they're out there," - he gestured vaguely in the wrong direction - "killing and almost getting killed and eating terrible food and having their laundry done by incompetents. It's - well, it's to be borne, of course; nothing else we can do, but it's hard, all the same." He paused, as if struck by a sudden thought. "And they're not even ours, not really. Well, somewhat, I'll grant you, only - " another gesture "you know what I mean."

Abigail considered. "I would assume the Cohort's laundry operators to have some experience getting blood and the like out of uniforms."

"One would indeed," agreed Magnus. "An eminently reasonable assumption to make. And yet."

"We might," she suggested carefully, "include some detergent with next month's care package. The good stuff."

Magnus's expression brightened, then fell again. "Someone would probably eat it. Or drink it, if it's the liquid stuff you were thinking off. Marking it won't help; I know how these things work."

Abigail considered some more, then said, "I bow to your superior knowledge."

Magnus flushed all the way red, reminding her of ... happier occasions, she supposed. "Superior nothing; we both know perfectly well who's the smartest person in the room here and who only married her."

"Not 'only'," said Abigail.

Magnus's flush simmered down to a mere blush, which was a much better look on him, as well as far more likely to allow her to get some actual work done the rest of the evening. "Most kind of you to say. But, damn it all, Abby, I'm simply going to come right out and say what I'm thinking, which is that it's not right."

"I invite you to consider the alternative to 'almost getting killed'," said Abigail.

Magnus's expression shifted to 'stubborn', then 'resigned'. "Point taken, and well made. Thank you, my lady, for putting things into perspective."

Abigail nodded once, to indicate the topic was closed and hopefully not to be revisited for at least another month, or whenever the next letter would arrive. "Was it only Isaac who complained about the food, or was it Jeannemary as well?"

Magnus's turn to consider. "Neither of them actually enjoys it, I think, but only Isaac complains. Jeannemary mentions some duels with the kitchen staff. Might be a case of cause and effect, though as to which is which, your guess would be better than mine."

"As good as," Abigail corrected absently. "You're talking to your wife, not the celebrated historian who's trying to get another book deal by sucking up to a who's who of the publishing world."

"I'm pretty sure any sucking up happened the other way around. As it should, of course," Magnus added with a slight frown. "Hard to smooth things over when you're here and they're out there."

"Have some faith, dear."

Magnus snorted. "Faith I have in spades. But also quite a helping of doubts, worries and the like. Sorry for going on like this. Should know better, really. Just ignore me."

On second thought, Abigail decided polishing her manuscript could wait. "Now that, husband, is one trick I never mastered. How would you feel about calling it an early night?"

Magnus blinked, then made a bow more befitting an invitation to dance than a suggestion to leave early.

Jeannemary's letter remained on the table as they left the room. Abigail made a mental note to read it herself tomorrow and then to give herself the same good, sensible advice she'd given Magnus.

Also, she felt convinced there had to be a solution to the 'if it's in a care package and looks even remotely edible, it's probably meant for eating' problem.

Perhaps she'd get some inspiration after a good night's sleep - say, the day after tomorrow.


End file.
